Thousands of Men Have Left Family Behind to Work in the Gas and Oil Fields of North Dakota. Their Temporary Homes: Spartan Barracks Known as 'Man Camps'

TIOGA, N.DAK.-Here, in this dusty former farming town about to get its first stoplight, is the new American economy. In a modern-day migration reminiscent of John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, thousands of men who can't find work have flocked to North Dakota's bountiful oil and gas fields to labor for giants like Hess and Halliburton and scores of smaller companies. Staying anywhere from a few weeks to two years, they often bunk in prefab dormitories they call "man camps." One of the largest is Capital Lodge, with 1,850 beds; workers live in 14-by-18-ft. rooms with a bed, dresser, flat-screen TV and Internet access. The nightly single rate of $140 is often covered by employers with meals usually included, a deal that's tough to beat. But as missed birthdays, anniversaries and school events pile up, men proud to be breadwinners again find themselves achingly lonely and yearning for home.

DIRE STRAITS

IVAN GUERRERO

Before: Mortgage broker Now: Saltwater waste hauler

I was in the mortgage business for 10 years. I made almost $200,000 a year. My business died in 2008. I went broke. I started eating everything I'd saved-my 401(k), savings; I didn't have enough money to pay the basic bills. I have five kids, three still at home. I saw a report on the news and went online and searched "North Dakota jobs." They hired me over the phone. I borrowed an RV, came up here in [January '11] and started working.

NEWCOMERS WELCOME

DIEGO SEGURA

Before: Semi owner-operator Now: Welder's helper

I came on borrowed money-brother, sister, mom, girlfriend. It was scary coming here by myself. I lived in my car in the church parking lot for two months. You pay three bucks to take a gym shower at the park. I found work surface-drilling. They drill the first 90 ft. into the ground, and then the big rig comes. I'd never done it before. The third day I was here, I found they'd put up a flyer in the unemployment office. I went, met the owner, and they gave me the job the same day.

LEARNING THE ROPES

FRANK GIBSON

Before: Timber hauler Now: Oil-rig transporter

We take rigs apart and put 'em together. It was on-the-job training. We work on demand: When rigs call, we haul. We start about 7 a.m. and work 10 or 12 hours on location, [usually] an hour and a half away. I work 70 hours a week, with a day or two off. I'm making three times as much on a good week as I was logging. But when you're home, you're going a month or six weeks without a check.

FAR FROM HOME

NILO SILVAN

Before: Teacher Now: Assistant camp manager

The first time I was up here, it was rough. I thought I was going for six weeks, and I was here for almost three months. When I came up, my baby [Nyla, 2] didn't have any teeth. I went back home, and she had three or four. I got Skype so I can watch her progress walking and talking. She changes so fast. It's hard, man. Skype is good, but it's not being there.

GIBSON: [When I'm home] it's like a honeymoon. Me and my dad go fishing; me and my little girl [Sarah, 7] ride four-wheelers. When I was logging, even when I was home, I didn't have any time for her. When I'm at home now, unless she's in school, she's right there with me. She understands as far as "Daddy's got to go make us some money." But she doesn't like me being on a long hitch. [On the phone] she says, "Daddy, when are you coming home?" I say, "Baby, I don't know yet." [Earlier this year] I worked five months with only three weeks off so I could walk my daughter [Britney, 22] down the aisle.

DOWNTIME

GIBSON: On my day off, I wash clothes. There's not a bunch to do. I don't drink, don't run around on my wife, don't go to bars. I like the small-town atmosphere. But you don't really make friends in a place like this.

BRAD KORENUK

Before: Dairy farmhand Now: Pipeline laborer

I like the socializing, being able to meet different people from different states. I brought my extra TV and my gaming PC. I got my Xbox, play Modern Warfare. I don't go out and spend all my money on beer and stuff. I did that the last few jobs, and it's an easy way to blow it.

GUERRERO: I don't have a life here in the sense that I don't have my family or friends. I direct a Bible study Wednesdays and Sundays at 8 a.m. My boss knows, so they usually accommodate me. I needed some food for my soul.

NEW HOPE

SEGURA: I send my whole check home. You stay here for free, eat for free; I've gained 10 lbs. There's guys who got jobs here, not knowing anything, making $30 an hour. I'm not there yet, but I will be. If you can make two grand a week, that's worth being away from your family. My daughter's going to need a car pretty soon, and I want to help her through college. I'm not going home until there's some money in the bank. From rags to riches, man.

GUERRERO: It felt good being able to catch up on bills, not having the electricity or water shut off. I have kids going to private school, and I'm trying to provide an education for them. I bought a car. A lady had an Audi she hit a deer with. I'm pretty handy, so I picked it up, bought some parts on the Internet and put it together. It's a beautiful car. Eventually I want to start my own business here and bring my family. There are good schools in Minot [80 miles away]. I might be willing to hang my hat here.

GIBSON: The way these booms work, when things slow down, there's not really the demand for this many employees. You just kind of hitch a ride. When we first came up here, there wasn't anybody to hire. It's a little harder to get a job up here now than it once was. Would I go back home if I knew I could make a decent living for my family? Yep, I would. I'm not going to sit here and tell you this is the easiest thing I've ever done. But it's not the hardest either. This is just a little bump in the road.

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Long Days & Lonely Nights

Segura (on a pipeline in September) wakes before dawn, drives to a company lot and boards a bus that takes men to their job sites.

After working all night, Guerrero digs into the breakfast buffet (starting at 4:30 a.m.). The camp also offers dinner and sack lunches.

Most man camps will not accommodate couples. Brad and Janice Graupner of Bonners Ferry, Idaho, live in a 23-ft. mobile home. Says Janice: "We go to a motel to stretch our legs and take a real shower."

"You have nothing to do except work," says Jonathan Wylie (left, with high school buddy Anthony Woodford in a shared room).

Faces of the New Frontier

THE WORKFORCE BEHIND THE BOOM IS A CROSS-SECTION OF AMERICA AS DIVERSE AS THE COUNTRY ITSELF. THE COMMON GOAL: A BRIGHTER, MORE SECURE FUTURE

JONATHAN WYLIE

Age: 18 Hometown: Melba, Idaho

"Everybody's away from their friends and family, so you kind of have to connect."

ANTHONY WOODFORD

Age: 21 Hometown: Melba, Idaho

"You come here to find work. You can go home with a trade."

FRANK GIBSON

Age: 43 Hometown: Gilbertown, Ala.

"A man has a responsibility to his family. You make whatever sacrifice you have to."

NILO SILVAN

Age: 38 Hometown: Covington, La.

"I didn't want to leave my newborn baby. But I don't second-guess because I can provide."

BRAD KORENUK

Age: 20 Hometown: Gilman, Wis.

"I want to go to school for computers. I don't plan on pipelining the rest of my life."

DIEGO SEGURA

Age: 35 Hometown: Whittier, Calif.

"Everyone's lonely up here. Stay away from the bars, and you'll be all right."

BEVERLY MADDOX

Age: 51 Hometown: Port St. Joe, Fla.

"I've learned how good the people here are. We look out for each other."

IVAN GUERRERO

Age: 49 Hometown: Fort Lauderdale

"I'm trying to build some retirement. I'm not a young chick anymore."

One Woman's Work

Among hundreds of men at Capital Lodge: a few bold women. Beverly Maddox (left, preheating pipe) quit her retail job with benefits in '07 for itinerant pipeline work: "I took a leap of faith." Drawn by the pay—she hopes to start an Internet company with her boyfriend—she has worked in eight states, through frigid winters and blazing summers and even while getting chemo for breast cancer. Of being the rare woman, she says, "It's no big deal. You get out there, you lay some pipes, you make friends. Not everyone is cut out for it."